The Origin of Daisy
by DeutchRemy
Summary: There are so many unanswered questions about Daisy. Where did she come from? How old was she when she came to Downton? Does she have parents? Well, this is her story.
1. Chapter 1

The Origin of Daisy

It was a cold winter's night in 1903 when a small girl of about six was left outside the servants' entrance at the abbey with nothing but the clothes on her back and a note.

The note, scribbled in the messy penmanship of one with little education, read:

"This is Daisy. Her birthday is April 4, 1897. We can not afford to care for her any more. She is to much of a burden. Please look after her for us. She is good at dishes and house work. We do love her but we can not take care of her any more with all of her siblings."

It was not signed.

Donald, the footman who answered the door that blustery night, stared at the child, read the note, then stared at the child again, obviously not having the slightest idea what to do. He looked out the door into the darkness. In addition to the small footprints of the girl, there were two larger sets of footprints. Clearly whoever dropped her off had fled as quickly as they could. An idea bulb went off in his head and he took the child by the arm and led her into the hallway.

"I need you to wait right here and don't move, can you do that for me?"

The little girl nodded her head.

Donald disappeared and returned a minute later with a grouchy-looking man with bushy eyebrows and the nose of an eagle.

"Here she is, Mr. Carson."

Carson looked the girl up and down, taking in her ragged and faded dress that looked to be at least one size too large. Her long brown hair was tied back in two matching braids and her large blue eyes were framed by a face of freckles. A prominent set of ears poked out from the sides of her head. The butler read the note and then took the girl's cold hand.

"I don't know what you expect me to do." Mrs. Hughes looked menacing standing in the middle of her sitting room, hands on hips, and little Daisy hid behind Mr. Carson.

Carson looked sheepish. "I...uh...well, you _are_ a woman, after all. If it was a boy child it goes without saying that I would take responsibility for him, but, er...as it turns out...it's a girl child..."

"I'm a housekeeper, not a mother." She regretted her words once she spotted the little girl hiding behind the tall butler. Her features and voice softened and she removed her hands from her hips. She bent over so her face was almost level with the girl's. "There there, what's your name, my darling?"

"Daisy."

Mrs. Hughes took young Daisy's hands in her own. "Ooh, your hands are so cold! Don't you have mittens?" She cupped the small face in the palm of her hand and found that it, too, was quite cold.

"Why don't we put her in the kitchen? Mrs. Patmore has been complaining about the lack of help ever since Marie left."

"And what, have Mrs. Patmore look after her? Mr. Carson, are you forgetting about the fact that we need to find this girl's parents and send her back to them?"

"Mrs. Hughes, let's be honest. How much of a chance do you think this child has in an overcrowded house with parents who leave her in the snow with no jacket, mittens, or extra clothing? Now don't you worry about his Lordship; I'll speak with him and he'll probably have no problem taking this girl in. He might even give her a small stipend."

"Your heart is in the right place, Mr. Carson, but would you be so eager to have her stay if you were the one who had to look after her?"

Carson realized that she was probably right.

"I'll take that as a no. Nonetheless, the decision is made. It's late, though, and she's surely exhausted. We won't send her into the kitchen until tomorrow; I'll bring her upstairs and get her settled and introduce her to Mrs. Patmore in the morning. Come now, my girl." She took young Daisy's hand and they disappeared into the hallway.


	2. Chapter 2

The Origin of Daisy

Chapter 2

Mrs. Hughes stripped the small girl and lifted her naked body into the tub, which was filled with fresh, hot, sudsy water. Together she and Anna, Downton's 15-year-old scullery maid, scrubbed her from head to toe. Anna undid her braids and shampooed her hair while Mrs. Hughes cleaned and trimmed Daisy's finger and toenails.

It was during this bath that the girl began to come out of her shell. She was by no means cheerful but they coaxed her into talking about her sheepdog, her sisters, and various other topics of interest to a six-year-old.

Once she was dry and wrapped in a towel the housekeeper brushed her hair and snipped about an inch off to take care of her split ends. She was then dressed in an old nightgown of Anna's, which was much too large but fulfilled its purpose. Since Anna's roommate, Marie, had left for greener pastures, Daisy was placed in her bed, at least for the time being.

As she lie there that first night, listening to the sound of Anna's breathing, the reality of the situation finally caught up with her. She was homesick, she missed her parents, so she did what any six-year-old child would do and cried herself to sleep.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" Mrs. Patmore pointed a wooden spoon at the girl standing in front of her.

"She's not an 'it', Mrs. Patmore, she's a girl, and her name is Daisy."

"Okay, so what am I supposed to do with Daisy, then?" The spoon was still pointed in her direction.

"Let her wash some dishes or help you with basic food prep." Mrs. Hughes replied. "She tells me she can crack eggs. Or she can mix ingredients for you."

"She's going to need a stool."

"There's one in the boot room. I'll fetch it."

The cook sighed. "Alright, then. Come here, girl, you can dry those pots and pans for me."

"Yes, ma'am."

"No, those will be far too heavy for her. How about she washes those vegetables instead?" Mrs. Hughes had returned with the stool and placed it up against the sink.

"Yes, I suppose she could do that, but the girl's going to have to build some strength if she's going to survive in this kitchen."


	3. Chapter 3

The Origin of Daisy

Chapter 3

Christmas Eve, 1904

A wail rang out through the servants' hall and filtered into Mr. Carson's office. He put the finishing touches on his letter to his old partner, Charles Grigg, and stood up from his chair.

The wail had transformed into a low sobbing that increased in volume as he neared the kitchen. When he entered the room he was greeted by the sight of Mrs. Patmore, one hand with a vice grip on young Daisy's wrist, the other hand smacking the poor girl's bottom as though she were an exorcist trying to beat the demons out of her.

"That'll do, Mrs. Patmore."

She stopped the spanking when she heard the gruff voice, but maintained her firm grip on Daisy's wrist.

"Mr. Carson, I have told this girl time and time again to _not_ touch the burners when they're lit. She's been here for a whole year and has heard me say it a _hundred _times, and what does she do? She touches it and burns herself!"

"So you decided that in addition to having burnt fingers she should have trouble sitting tomorrow, as well?"

"Well how else is the girl going to learn? This is the third time she's burnt herself and as you can see, it hasn't deterred her!"

There was no such thing as winning an argument with Mrs. Patmore when she was in a bad mood, so Carson decided to forfeit.

"Mrs. Patmore, I can see that you feel overworked and you have my sympathy. I do not imagine that it is easy preparing a Christmas Eve feast, but the next time you believe that discipline is in order, please consult either Mrs. Hughes or myself first."

"But she's under my jurisdiction."

"I understand that, but as I said, I would prefer it if you came to us first. Need I remind you that we are your superiors?"

Now, Mrs. Patmore has one weakness, and that is a crippling and irrational fear of being sacked. The moment the last word came out of Carson's mouth, she replied with a simple "No, Mr. Carson", before returning to dicing potatoes.

Carson knelt down in front of Daisy, whose face was wet with tears, and took her hand in his.

"Now, what do you say we get you upstairs to bed? Little girls have no business being up past ten on Christmas Eve."

He brought her into Mrs. Hughes' sitting room, where she had either managed to drown out the earlier sound of Daisy being chastised, or had suddenly gone deaf. He guessed the former, as she responded to her name.

"Yes, what is it, Mr. Carson?"

"I just thought it might be a good time for you to get miss Daisy here up to bed. It is Christmas Eve, after all."

"I'd love to, but I have this paperwork to do." She indicated the stack on her desk. "Anna's still up, isn't she?"

"Yes, I just saw her a moment ago, as a matter of fact. I'll go fetch her. Oh, and don't be surprised if you find Daisy has a, er...red bum the next time you bathe her. Mrs. Patmore has been on the warpath." He turned to leave the room but stopped in the doorway. "Oh, and the family is all settled in for the night and everything is locked up, so I'll be turning in pretty soon myself. In case I don't see you again, have a good night."

"Goodnight, Mr. Carson."

"Are you excited to see what Santa brings?" Anna, now 16, pulled the dress over Daisy's head and, to minimize the girl's shivering, quickly replaced it with her nightgown, which Mrs. Hughes had bought for her in the correct size several days after she arrived at Downton.

"Yes, I am. I never got presents at home."

This confirmed Anna's suspicion that the Christmas present Daisy received last year, only weeks after her arrival, was probably her first one ever.

"I love the dress Lady Grantham gave me last year. It was ever so kind of her."

"I think she enjoyed seeing your reaction; I think it made her very happy. Now go on and get into bed, or you'll catch cold. Shoo!"


	4. Chapter 4

The Origin of Daisy

Chapter 4

February 22, 1905

"Would somebody get this brat out of my way, please?" Thomas was tempted to shove the girl to the side with his foot but thought better of it. Never know if Mr. Carson might be watching, after all. He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"Daisy, get out of the way of the footmen and come do these dishes before someone swats you!" Mrs. Patmore bellowed from the other side of the kitchen. Not looking for trouble, the frightened child scurried over to the sink, stepped onto her stool, and buried her hands in the suds. "I know you're curious about the feast preparations, girl, but you can't go getting under foot, 'specially not when footmen are coming and going, carrying the dishes that I've slaved away at."

"Sorry, Mrs. Patmore."

"So Mrs. Patmore, have you told young Daisy here about how – ACHOO! – how curiosity killed the cat?"

"Thomas, just take that stew up and get out of here before you contaminate my kitchen with your germs! Go on, git!"

"Shove me again and I tell Mr. Carson."

"Never threaten a cook. I make your food, remember?"

Thomas, looking defeated, sauntered off, muttering something about fat old women.


	5. Chapter 5

The Origin of Daisy

Chapter 5

February 25, 1905

"Mrs. Hughes, could you tell Mrs. Patmore that Daisy can't work today? She's gone and caught Thomas' flu, poor thing." Anna sat on the edge of the bed with Daisy, who was wrapped in a blanket and shaking with chills. Anna placed her palm against the girl's forehead. "Ohhh, she's burning up, Mrs. Hughes. I think we should send for Dr. Clarkson."

"Not to worry, Anna. You go on downstairs and I'll get her some aspirin. If her fever doesn't go down I'll send for the doctor."

The young housemaid reluctantly left the room. "Feel better, Daisy." She said as she closed the door behind her.

Mrs. Hughes strode through the room and closed the curtains. "I imagine your head might feel better if we filtered that light. Now, I'm going to get you some aspirin. I'll be right back."

It had been several hours since Mrs. Hughes gave Daisy the aspirin and she had not improved. No, in fact she seemed to be getting worse. Her chills had amplified and she could barely keep her eyes open. In a panic, the housekeeper dashed down the stairs and nearly dragged Mr. Carson back up with her. As though she ran the place, she ordered him to stick the eight-year-old into a cool bath while she had Watson fetch Dr. Clarkson.

"You did the right thing in putting her into the bath when you did. If her body had gotten any hotter she may have begun seizing."

Daisy was out of the tub and back in her bed with a light quilt thrown over her. The bath and medicine from Dr. Clarkson had drastically reduced her fever, so she no longer felt the need to bundle herself up under a bunch of blankets.

"What if her fever goes up again, doctor?"

"Not to worry, Mrs. Hughes. She seems to be rounding the corner on this illness, but on the off chance that her fever returns give her one of these tablets," he picked up his bag and handed her a small bottle of white pills, "with a full glass of water."

"Will they help with her other symptoms? She's been complaining of aches all day."

"Yes, they should be able to alleviate some of her symptoms."

"Thank you so much, doctor. I'll be sure to contact you again if she gets worse." Mrs. Hughes opened the bedroom door to reveal Carson pacing back and forth in the hallway. He abruptly stopped, as though caught, and cleared his throat.

"Er, thank you for coming, Dr. Clarkson. Why don't you come down and I'll fix us some tea? I gather all is well with the girl?"

"Yes, I left some pills with Mrs. Hughes to administer if young Daisy's fever spikes again, but it's unlikely you'll have to use them. My prescription is rest, lots of rest. And tea would be lovely, thank you."


	6. Chapter 6

The Origin of Daisy

Chapter 6

February 26, 1905

"I hear Daisy almost died yesterday."

"She did not! Anyhow, it would've been your fault if she had. Now get out of here, Thomas, before you spread your filthy germs to anybody else!" Mrs. Patmore whipped the footman with her dishtowel right as Mrs. Hughes walked in and put her hands on her hips.

"Might I ask what is going on in here?"

"You certainly may and I'd be more than happy to answer." Mrs. Patmore was not fond of Mrs. Hughes nor her condescending manner of handling the staff, so she ensured that her reply required Mrs. Hughes to ask the question once more, just to get on her nerves.

Mrs. Hughes rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and sighed. "Alright then, what is going on in here?"

"This footman here –"

"Thomas."

"I know his name, jus' didn't feel like using it. Anyway, this feller here was starting rumors that our Daisy almost died yesterday."

"There is a small ounce of truth to that. Dr. Clarkson informed us that if we hadn't brought down her temperature when we did, she could have begun to seize and could have suffered brain damage. Which is why, Thomas, you are to stay _out_ of the kitchen unless your services are absolutely required! The influenza wreaks havoc in the young and the elderly. Suppose the Dowager Countess were to contract it from you?"

"His head would be on this platter and we'd be serving it to the family, that's what would happen."


	7. Chapter 7

The Origin of Daisy

Chapter 7

Spring, 1906

"Mrs. Patmore, Mrs. Patmore!"

"Daisy, no running in the kitchen, girl!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Patmore, but I have big news!"

"Well spit it out!"

"I got a new dress!"

"That's your big news? That's not even a new dress, that's a hand-me-down, silly girl. Can you say 'hand me down'?"

"Hand me down."

"Good girl, now go peel those potatoes."

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore."


	8. Chapter 8

The Origin of Daisy

Chapter 8

October, 1906

Daisy knew she wasn't supposed to be upstairs, but she learned that Lord and Lady Grantham's youngest daughter was only a year or so older than her. When she wasn't helping Mrs. Patmore in the kitchen, she was so very lonely. She had vague memories of playing with her siblings, and the thought of having a playmate made her all warm inside.

She crept up the stairs and into the main hall and began to make her way towards what the adults referred to as the "drawing room". Daisy assumed that this "drawing room" was where the girls would sit and do arts and crafts and draw pictures and the like. As she got closer she heard voices, but they were adult voices saying adult things that her nine-year-old ears couldn't understand.

She was nervous; her palms were sweaty and she paused to bite her nails. She contemplated turning around and running back downstairs. Doing so would keep her out of any trouble, but it would mean no playmate for her.

Her mind was made up for her, however, when a hand reached from behind and grabbed the collar of her dress, yanking her backwards forcefully.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing, you daft girl?" Miss O'Brien, Lady's Maid to Lady Grantham, hissed through her teeth. Before Daisy could answer, she was dragged down the stairs by her ear.

She expected a strict lecture by Miss O'Brien and possibly Mrs. Hughes, and was all prepared with her "Yes, Mrs. Hughes" and "Sorry, Miss O'Brien", but the lecture never came.

Instead, she was yanked outside and thrust into the gardener's shed, and the door locked behind her.

Mrs. Patmore found her hours later when she went out back to dispose of the fruit and vegetable remnants from dinner. They had had an early freeze and she was unable to get the lid off of the compost bin. She went to the shed to get a trowel or something to pry it open, and the moonlight illuminated a small shivering figure in the corner behind the shovels and buckets.

"Oh my dear Lord, I been wondering where you'd got off to, girl!" She was about as surprised as Daisy was relieved. "Did you lock yourself in by mistake? Oh, there, there, don't cry, now."

Abandoning the search for a trowel, the old cook picked the girl up. She'd never picked a child up before, but she'd seen other people do it, namely the nannies with the Crawley girls when they were younger, so she did what she remembered them doing and slid her arm under the girl's bottom.

Daisy was small for her age; she was nine but was the size of the average seven-year-old. Even then, the short Mrs. Patmore nearly fell forward into the shed when she first picked the child up, having been completely unaware that children, even the smallest ones, weigh more than a bag of flour.

She staggered into the kitchen with the girl clinging to her. Using her foot, she pushed the room's only chair over to the oven and lowered herself onto it with Daisy on her lap.

"There, there, sweet girl, I've got you. We'll get you warmed up." She scooted the chair a tad closer to the warm oven and began to rock the shivering Daisy back and forth.

Carson walked in and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the sight.

"What on earth...? What's happened?" He demanded.

"I have yet to find out, Mr. Carson, but for the time being, could you please fetch a blanket?"

Carson hurried out of the room as quickly as his dignity would allow and returned minutes later with a large white blanket that he wrapped around the still-shaking girl.

"Would you like me to take her, Mrs. Patmore? I can bring her to Mrs. Hughes' sitting room."

"No, no, we're fine here. Just fine."

Hours later, once Daisy had managed to talk and subsequently been tucked into bed, O'Brien stood before Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, hands clasped behind her back, with the expression of one facing the gallows. She honestly didn't think the girl would tell.

The little rat.


	9. Chapter 9

The Origin of Daisy

Chapter 9

June, 1907

The annual fair had come to town and Daisy, excited to be attending it for the first time, licked happily at the giant lollipop that Anna had bought her. The confection had started out at about ten inches in diameter, a half an inch thick, and a swirl of blue, red, orange, and green. It was every child's dream come true. As the day went on, the candy got progressively smaller.

"Daisy, you're going to make yourself sick!" Mrs. Patmore snatched the lollipop, which was now about two inches in diameter and a half a centimeter thick, out of the surprised girl's hands. Daisy's face fell.

"Now, Mrs. Patmore, I think Daisy is entitled to enjoy herself at her first fair." Mr. Carson, unable to keep from raising an eyebrow at how much smaller it was than it had been earlier, took the pop from the cook and handed it back to Daisy, whose smile returned.

Anna ran up and grabbed Daisy's hand. "Come, Daisy, I got us tickets for the carousel!"

The ride came to a stop and the ten-year-old girl staggered off, swaying on her feet and trying to get her bearings. It was a tame ride, but Daisy had never before been on such a thing and was unprepared for the effects.

She couldn't find Anna, but through her swimming vision she spotted Lady Grantham and made her way over to her. She'd probably know where Anna was.

Lady Grantham noticed her before she had to work up the courage to say something.

"Oh you poor darling! It's Daisy, isn't it?"

"Yes, m'lady."

"You look unwell, my dear." Cora placed an arm around Daisy's shoulders. "Come with me and we'll find Mrs. Hughes."

"Oh my lady, thank you so much for bringing her back to us. I hope she didn't cause you any trouble."

"None whatsoever, Mrs. Hughes. I fear the carousel confused her. Heavens, I don't know why we let children ride such things." She sighed. "Well, I best be on my way, Mrs. Hughes, or His Lordship will send out a search party."

"Of course, your Ladyship." She frowned down at Daisy. "Now Daisy, what have I told you about-"

Before she could say another word Daisy vomited up the contents of her stomach, which consisted of nothing but her enormous lollipop and a carbonated drink. The colors of the lollipop had mixed together, so the patch of grass was now covered in a viscous, sticky, sugary, bluish-purplish, slightly fizzy liquid that smelled the same coming out as it had going in.

"Oh my dear girl!" Mrs. Hughes fumbled for her handkerchief and did her best to clean the girl's face and dress, which were also covered in the sticky-sweet mess, while Daisy just stood there and began to cry. "Now don't you make a scene, girl. It's not the end of the world."

Mrs. Patmore waddled over, scone in hand, and surveyed the scene. "May I sing the 'I Told You So' song now, or shall I wait until later?" She asked.


	10. Chapter 10

The Origin of Daisy

Chapter 10

August, 1908

A tear slid down Daisy's face and would have landed in the cake batter had she not wiped it away as quickly as she did.

"What's the matter with her?" Thomas asked O'Brien in the stairwell, having just passed through the kitchen and noticed the girl's red eyes.

"They're moving her out of Anna's room. Got a new housemaid starting, apparently, so they're moving Daisy into Stella's room so the new girl can bunk with Anna. You should've heard her this morning when they told her. Girl was bawlin' her bloody eyes out. Thought she'd never shut up."

"Hmm...who's Stella?"

"The kitchen maid, you noodle."

"Oh, right."

Back in the kitchen, there seemed to be no end in sight for Daisy's tears. She was crying quietly now, so quietly in fact that Mrs. Patmore had assumed the tempest had ended hours earlier. She popped the turkey in the oven and, wiping her hands on her apron, went over to see how the cake batter was coming along.

"Ooh, Daisy, my little lamb, your face is a mess!" Within seconds she had her handkerchief out and was mopping the girl's face. She smiled, satisfied. "That's my pretty girl. Now, finish putting together the batter and then go sit down. What do you say you and I have some hot cocoa later, after the dinner mess is all cleaned up? Would you like that?"

Daisy sniffed and struggled to find her voice. "C-can Anna have cocoa w-with us?"

"Whatever will make you happy."

At this, Daisy smiled.


End file.
